Reasons why Spirits stay out of Certain Countries
by shadowedstormy
Summary: Jack knew the rules. He did try to stay out of Ireland. He didn't know why, but he did. So when he ends up crash-landing on the island, he can swear that it's not his fault. Honestly. He just didn't expect the Leprechaun to show up and threaten some random Autumn Spirits. Didn't expect it at all.
1. Chapter 1

Jack had heard all the rumours. Really, every Spirit had. It was almost one of the Spirit rules, the rules that every Spirit knew about. The main rules were: Don't mess with another Spirit's job no matter what it is, never turn your back on another Spirit, and, any Spirit not created in Ireland, stays the hell out of Ireland.

Well, the Spirits who had a job to do that went worldwide, like seasons or holidays and the like, were exempt from the last rule, when it was the time for the season or holiday at least. Even then they had to be as fast as possible and kept looking over their shoulder.

The winter Spirit understood the first two of the main, if unofficial, Spirit rules. The Spirits were there to do their job and could become very dangerous when they couldn't perform their duty. The second one was put in place because a Spirit could be alone for a long period of time, and the rest was self-explanatory.

But the third one… Jack never knew what that one was about. He didn't ask about it though. Many Spirits either didn't know, and just stayed out, or did not want to talk about it. Jack just decided it might be safer to stay out of Ireland as much as possible.

So when he ended up crash landing on the island, he can swear that it wasn't his fault.

* * *

He had actually been flying along, riding the wind back to his lake, when he was knocked out of the sky. He managed to catch his staff and steady himself, pointing his staff in front of him defensively. His light blue eyes narrowed as he scanned the skies around him for his attackers.

He spotted them. It was a couple of autumn sprites, obviously new to the world, preparing to attack him for bringing winter to replace autumn. He shot a blast of ice at them, just to send them off. They dodged, as he hoped, but didn't back off. Instead, they came at him even faster.

_Not good_, the white-haired teen thought. He normally could beat off lesser seasonal spirits easily, but he had just had a busy day. Norway and Russia had both been due for winter. And that meant blizzards.

So the winter shepherd was a bit low on power, so when the autumn sprite blew a biting wind at him, he dodged and flipped, only to be kicked by the other spirit. The first spirit rushed in and grabbed him by the collar of his hoodie, while the other wrestled his staff away from him. He tried to hold on to it, he really did, but his chest was throbbing from the kick.

When the staff was taken from his hands, he immediately lifted them and grabbed on to the arm of the man holding him up. He couldn't fly without his staff, but he could still freeze the other spirit.

The man swore in Norwegian at the frostbite freezing his arm to the bone before punching Jack with his spare hand. Jack hissed in pain before yelping as his attacker's companion whacked his shoulders. With his own staff, no less.

Jack brought his knee up and hit the Norwegian's stomach. Too late he realised what that would do. The man gasped and dropped him. Jack fell like a stone towards the forest below.

The winter spirit grabbed a tree branch as he fell past it, to slow his descent. He howled in pain and cursed as his shoulder popped out of its socket. But the action slowed him down enough to land without serious injury.

Jack stood up and leaned against the helpful tree. He knew that the other spirits would follow him so he took the time to catch his breath and prepared reset his shoulder. He braced himself for the searing agony. _On three._ He said to himself. _One… two… thr-_

He was 'saved' from having to fix his shoulder by the unwelcome sound of two Spirits descending into the glen where he was. He glared up at the duo, plotting how to get his staff back. The vengeful Spirits landed lightly, the woman still holding his staff. He narrowed his eyes even more, attempting to bore holes through their, incredibly thick, skulls.

The man stepped forward and said something in Norwegian. Jack stared at him blankly. The woman stepped forward and repeated what he said in English. "You ruined our work, you white-haired imp." The 'white-haired imp' took a minute to figure out what the golden-eyed woman was saying through her heavy accent.

Jack held up his hand, about to plead his case and try to get his staff back. This was a bad move as the man, obviously taking it as a threat, ran forward and pinned Jack against the oak. Jack's good hand yanked at the forearm pressing his throat to the bark as he locked eyes with his tormentor. He heard the woman yelling at her partner in her native tongue. The man shouted back.

Everyone in the clearing froze at the sound of a fourth voice, laced with a thick Irish burr. "Ye'd best be puttin' the lad down now, or Ah'll give ye' a righ' puck in the jaw, ya scumbag."

Now Jack remembered the third rule. Stay the hell out of Ireland. As he realised where he was, his mind went blank.

_Oh, crap._

* * *

**Originally going to be a oneshot. Damn my need for suspense. So, who likes it? **

**I'm just going to warn you all now. There will cursing in the next chapter. I almost think in swear words and the new guy does not have a great mind-to-mouth filter. This chapter above, I thought was very clean. Just saying.**

**Don't worry about the two Norwegian Spirits. They are just there to attack Jack, send him crashing into my homeland, threaten him a bit, and then get their asses kicked by an antisocial drinker with anger problems.**

**Irish translations: (for the un-Irish)**

**Puck- a swift punch**


	2. Chapter 2

"Ah'll say it again. Drop the lad an' leave. Now."

Jack looked back at the man pinning him to a tree. The man's grip had lessened when the other man had arrived, giving Jack room to breathe. His vision cleared as he took in oxygen. The man felt him breathing and turned back, slamming his arm into the smaller Spirit's windpipe.

The autumn sprite the shouted in alarm as hands grabbed him from behind and flung him across the clearing. The winter Spirit dropped to the ground, massaging his throat. He settled his back against the trunk of the oak, looking up at the scene in front.

The Norwegian man had hit a tree opposite and slid down the trunk. He was currently on all fours, gasping for air. The woman had dropped Jack's staff and ran towards him, then skidded to a halt when the man who had thrown her partner stepped into her path.

Vibrant green eyes narrowed into slits as they surveyed the sprite. He leaned forward, his nose almost touching hers. She shrank back. "Get off me country before Ah pummel ye." He hissed in a lethal tone. The woman's eyes were darting between her now standing companion and the pissed off Spirit in front of her.

She gave a small squeak of fright and fell back. She scrabbled backwards before rolling over and flying away. The other autumn Spirit watched her retreat with disbelief. The Irish man turned blazing emerald eyes towards his next victim.

The Norwegian man stood tall at the height of 6'4, towering slightly over the Irish man. He looked down at the smaller man; he reached out a hand to grab the other man's collar like he had done to the winter sprite.

The smaller man growled like a lion and grabbed the bigger Spirit's hand, flipping him over his shoulder. The sprite landed heavily while the elven-eared man pounced on him. The bigger man fought him for a while until he felt a prickle against his neck. He looked down and fought the urge to gulp.

The pointed-eared man was sitting on him, one hand holding his vest, the other holding a small axe against his throat. "Stay off me fuckin' land! Got it, ye scunner?" He roared, eyes glinting dangerously. The pinned Spirit whimpered and started to nod, before remembering the axe.

"Yes."

The Irish man held him down a minute longer, then stood up holding out a green hand to the terrified Spirit. The Norwegian took the hand and got to his feet. He looked again at the small axe the other man was still holding, and flew the same way the woman had.

The man glared at the sky for a minute. He put his axe back in the custom sheath on his belt. Jack took the time when he was preoccupied but not being terrifying to take a good look at the Spirit who had helped him, and gaining a black eye for it.

The man stood at about 5'11, Jack would guess, and had green skin. _Wait a minute, green? _The winter sprite stared for a moment, then decided it didn't matter. He'd seen weirder. The man's hair was a bright reddish-orange, longer then Jack's, and pushed behind his pointed elven ears. The man wore leather bracers inset with gold designs, and had a pair of throwing axes strapped to his belt. Jack made good note of the weapons. He wore a green short-sleeved coat and a brown undershirt.

He looked the winter sprite and Jack backed away, gritting his teeth when the movement jostled his injured shoulder. The green-skinned man saw the pain and raised an eyebrow slightly. The two Spirits had a staring match.

"So, what's yer name, lad?" the man asked. "I'm Lep, or that's wha' everyone calls me. 'Cause I'm the Leprechaun, see? Spirit of St. Paddy's Day an' all tha'." He reached up to tip a hat, then frowned, vanished and reappeared again, with a hat. He tipped the green hat towards the teen, light glinting off of the gold buckle.

"Jack Frost, Spirit of Winter." Was the reply. The man, Lep, grinned at that, showing off sharp canines. "What's ailin' ye, Jack?" Lep had seen Jack land and had heard the teen's yell.

"I'm not hurt." Jack snapped, lying through his teeth. His shoulder was in agony, sending waves of throbbing pain through his body. Lep crossed his arms and took a step forward. Jack levelled his staff at him.

Lep put his hands up in a gesture of peace. "Easy, lad. Ah jus' want ta help. Yer shoulder's popped."

While he was saying this he had walked forward until he was in front of Jack and had crouched down. He motioned to the younger spirit's shoulder. Jack let him hold his shoulder. The Leprechaun looked him in the eye. "This is going te be bloody painful, lad." Jack looked at him. "You don't say?" he said blandly.

Lep snickered. "Sarcasm. Gotta love it." He pushed Jack's shoulder back into place at that moment. Jack yelped at the sudden pain. When it faded he glared at the guilty party. Lep grinned.

"Come on, laddie. Stand up."

Jack pulled himself up using his staff. He leaned on it and looked at Lep. "So," he started. "Thanks. You got me out of some real trouble there."

Lep waved a hand. "Don't mention it. Seriously, don't. Ah didn't do it because yer the new Guardian. Ah just don' like bullies." It was Jack's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You don't like the Guardians?" he queried. Lep looked a bit shifty at that.

"Well… North n' Sandy ain't bad. They're good for a laugh, a' least. Tooth doesn' like me much, last time Ah hit on her she threatened ta kill me. But Ah hate the rabbit. E's a bleeding muppet. Swear ta god, if Ah ever catch 'im here when it ain't Easter, Ah'm gonna fuckin' clock the bastard."

Jack noticed that the Irishman's hand unconsciously went towards an axe handle as he started muttering curses under his breath. The winter Spirit figured it was time to leave. "Well, thanks again, Lep." He said. The man looked up at him, and smirked, "See ye 'round, Jack."

He turned to leave then stopped and lifted a closed fist. "Hold out yer hand, lad." Jack did just that. The older man opened his hand and a few coins fell into Jack's palm.

"Ah heard ye were a prankster. These migh' come in handy. They look real, but in a few days the illusion will fade, an' they're nothin' but air." Jack nodded his head, already thinking up ideas for tricks. Lep clapped his hands together.

"Righ'!" Jack jumped a bit. "Don' mention any o' this to anyone, got it? Ah have a reputation, after all."

Jack flew a few feet in the air, grinning broadly. "Got it."

The leprechaun walked to the edge of the small glen, sparing a parting comment. "Slán, laddie. May the road rise ta meet ye."

Jack flew off towards his lake, laughing as he landed, skating over the pond and freeing it. He looked at the trick coins he had kept a hold of. Vengeance would be his. He had learnt that 'shiny' attracted Sandy's attention like nothing else.

_Dye my hair light blue, Sandy? Let's see how you like this one!_

(Suffice to say, Jack's prank went off without a hitch. And Sandy… His reaction when the coins vanished could have won a prize.)

* * *

A lone man stood at the edge of a loch, watching the water that had already claimed four people. He brushed a lock of fiery hair behind a pointed ear. Something moved in the depths, swimming towards him at breakneck speed. He grabbed his throwing axes and held them at the ready.

A large horse galloped out of the lake. The Leprechaun stepped to the side as it thudded past him. He struck out with the left axe and hit the stallion's neck. The equine staggered a few more steps, collapsing to the ground. I's slayer approached it, holding his other axe at the ready in case the animal wasn't dead.

He pulled his axe from its throat and wiped the blade on the grass. He looked his kill over. It was a dark grey and looked almost exactly like a normal horse, was it not for the bulrushes that were twined in it's mane. "A kelpie. A fuckin' kelpie. Least it's dead now." He grabbed the kelpie and dragged it towards the water, pushing it in and watching it sink.

Lep walked away from the water's edge when a thought occurred to him. Kelpies didn't normally take more than one victim from the same water. To take four from the same lake was unheard of, it was unnatural. "Shit." He cursed, running a hand through his hair. "Níl sé seo go maith. Tá rud éigin ag teacht."

* * *

**And there you have it. Thanks for reading.**

**The last bit at the end is just me not wanting to end on a happy note. But I'm happy. I like the kelpie, faeries in Ireland are cool. No namby-pamby bull about sparkly kids wearing tutus, we have baby-stealers and aquatic horses that drown and devour people.**

**An Irish slang dictionary:**

**Lad- boy**

**Scunner- scumbag, really, may be Scottish actually**

**Bleeding Muppet- Idiot**

**Clock- punch**

**Slán- goodbye**

**Níl sé seo go maith. Tá rud éigin ag teacht.- This isn't good. Something's coming.**

**The bit at the end, the 'something's coming' bit, is left open to your interpretation. It could be anything, Pitch, other nasty Spirit, Really old evil forces, , anything. It's up to you.**

**Oh, and for those who have read my Pokémon story, Conquest. I am going to delete it, I think. I have ran out of inspiration and I have no idea of the storyline. I'm going to delete it and focus on other stories. Sorry.**


End file.
